Merry Band of Misfits
by The Cocky Undead
Summary: A series of one-shots based on the agents of Graceland. Mostly focused on (surprise, surprise) Mike.
1. The Disgruntled Sick

**[The Disgruntled Sick]**

"Ugh…"

"Mikey? You're still in bed? _You? _Impossible!"

Mike cracked open an eye. Johnny loomed over him, a goofy grin on his face. "Dude, you look terrible."

"Thanks." Mike groaned, rolling over onto his side. "Leave me 'lone."

Johnny laughed, reaching down to ruffle Mike's thick hair. "Poor little guy."

"Get off." Mike growled, but made no move to remove Johnny's hand from his head. That required too much effort.

Johnny's hand moved from Mike's hair to his clammy forehead.

"Whoa, dude." Johnny's voice finally turned serious. "You're really burning up."

"I'm sick." Mike said, glaring up at Johnny, as if daring him to contradict him. "But you know what? That doesn't matter because I have a job to do. Bello wants me to meet him in…" Mike glanced over to look at the clock on his nightstand and then moaned, "…two hours." He buried his head deeper into his pillow; that little speech had taken too much energy.

Johnny bit his lip. "I'll be right back." He moved to the door.

"Please, just leave me alone." Mike tried to call after him, but it came out in more of a croak. He pulled his blankets over his head, plunging himself into darkness.

Blessed silence reigned over the room and Mike sighed in relief.

That relief didn't last long when a coughing fit overtook him. His whole body shook with each hack, until it finally subsided.

For a moment, Mike just gasped for breath, but then he declared aloud, "I'm dying."

"You're not dying." Johnny was back and Mike moaned in response. "You just can't think of anything better to do." Apparently Johnny's sense of humor was back.

Mike decided to ignore him and kept the blankets firmly tucked over his head.

"See! What did I tell you! Our little Mikey is sick." Johnny spoke again, this time to someone else.

"Johnny, I haven't even seen him yet." It was Charlie, which gave Mike some comfort. "Mike?"

"Go away." His voice was muffled by the covers.

"C'mon. I'm just gonna see how hot you are."

There was a snort from Johnny. "Charlie, gurl, we all know what's goin' on here."

A thump followed that statement, which then, in turn, caused Johnny to yelp. "Damn, Charlie!"

Mike managed to crack a smile at Johnny's pain.

"Come on, Mike," Charlie said, twitching at the covers.

Mike finally relented, peeking his head over the blankets. He stared up at Charlie with red-rimmed eyes.

"Shit." Charlie said, "You look like Death."

Mike nodded in agreement. He _felt_ like death.

She reached down and placed a cool hand on his forehead. "Hmm…" Charlie said, frowning.

Johnny hovered over her shoulder. "What's the verdict, doc?"

Charlie was silent for a moment. She then pointed a finger at Mike. "You're staying in bed today."

"But," Mike started, "Bello needs—,"

"Not today." Charlie interrupted. "Call him up and tell him you're sick. You're in no shape for anything today."

Mike meekly nodded.

"I'm making you tea and some soup, and you're going to eat and drink it all. Understand?"

Mike grunted.

"Good." Charlie gave Mike a hard look. "You stay in bed."

"Yeah," Johnny piped up. "Stay in bed, son."

Mike shot Johnny a glare and with the little strength he had left, heaved a pillow up smacking it into Johnny's face.

Mike was rewarded with a surprised shriek from Johnny and a chuckle from Charlie.

Charlie grabbed a hold of Johnny's arm before he could retaliate and pulled him away from the bed-ridden Mike.

She shoved him out of the room as he called out, "When you're better, Mike, you're gonna regret that!"

Charlie slowly closed the door behind her, pausing to stick her head back through. "Get better soon, Mikey."

* * *

**A/N: This is the first of (hopefully) many little one-shots of our favorite band of misfits.  
It's my first Graceland fic, so the characters may be off (be nice, okay).  
And, lastly, I hope you guys caught the "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" quote. It was too prefect not to use. **


	2. Through your eyes

**[Through your eyes]**

Abby never expected to see him again. When she walked out of his life, she had thought that would be the end of it. Obviously, she had been wrong.

Mike Warren walked past the bar's large window, not glancing inside to where she was sitting with her friends. A well-dressed man strode at his side, laughing at something that Mike had just said to him.

Abby watched as Mike entered the hazy bar, her hands a tangled mess on her lap.

Mike and his friend stopped at the bar's counter and Mike leaned forward to give, what Abby assumed, was their drink orders.

She couldn't help but take in all the small details about Mike's appearance; he looked so different since she last saw him. His thick blonde hair was combed back keeping it out of his eyes and his clothes seemed sharper, more professional. The way he held himself was different too. More relaxed, but at the same time, Abby could see the tension rolling off Mike's shoulders.

A hand touched Abby's shoulder, causing her to jerk and tear her eyes away from Mike.

"What's going on? You spaced out, like two minutes ago."

Abby forced a smile on her face, glancing over her friends' concerned faces. "It's nothing. I'm just realizing how tired I am."

Her friend sitting on her left, Heather, gave her a look, "Uh-huh…" Heather exchanged looks with their other friend, Sara, before looking back at Abby, "You were thinking about _him,_ weren't you?"

Abby flushed, causing Sara and Heather to nod knowing. "You've got to get over him. He obviously was no good for you and—ohmygosh—is that him?" Heather's eyes had followed Abby's gaze, landing on Mike Warren's lean frame. Heather's eyes were popping. "Why didn't you say something? No wonder you've got the Bambi eyes going on."

"Lower your voice." Abby hissed, ducking her head.

Sarah laughed, leaning forward. "Yeah, he's really going to hear you over all this noise from across the bar."

Abby's cheeks reddened and she shot another glance Mike's way. His friend was saying something to Mike, whose head was angled down to hear what he was being said.

Heather and Sara were now involved in Mike's activities, and were watching him as he responded to his friend.

"Who is that guy?" Sara asked, glancing at Abby.

Abby shrugged, not mentioning her suspicions that Mike was caught up with a possible drug lord.

Mike looked down at his watch and then up to the bartender, who gave Mike a nod and gestured to the bar's storage room. Or at least, that's where Abby thought the back door led to.

Mike nudged the black man and they both moved around the counter to the door, disappearing in it.

Heather sighed, "Damn. It was just starting to get interesting."

Abby nodded slowly; despite herself, she was curious.

Sara fingered her drink and bit her bottom lip. Hesitantly she said, "Why _did _you break up with him? You never really said."

Abby frowned and took a drink, delaying the answer.

Neither of her friends were going to be distracted, and waited silently for her answer.

Abby signed and then said, "He took me to his house—,"

Sara and Heather gave a small giggle and Abby rolled her eyes.

"Just to show me around because I was complaining that we never went there. His roommates were all gone…or so we thought. His friend, Paige, wasn't actually gone." Abby paused. "Mike was using the restroom and I opened his door to look at the hallway and I saw Paige. She was dressed really weirdly. Not like she usually dressed. And…she had a gun."

Sara gave a gasp of surprise, but didn't say anything.

"Mike came back and they both tried to explain it away."

Abby stopped again, causing Heather to prompt her saying, "But?"

"But," Abby agreed, "I found another gun. This one was in Mike's room."

"So, they have guns." Heather said after a moment, "Why was that such a big deal?"

Abby shook her head, "You didn't see their house. It was amazing. Clearly someone had money…and he was lying to me. I knew he was lying."

Abby stared at the ice cubes in her glass. Sara reached a hand out to grip Abby's.

"I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay," Abby said. "Like you said it was probably good that I got out of that relationship."

Before either Heather or Sara could respond, the storage room's door crashed open and somebody came flying out, slamming onto the wood floor.

Total silence fell on the room, expect for the man on the ground, groaning.

Mike stepped from the room, his face cold as he looked down on the man. He walked over, so that he was towering over the writhing man. Mike leaned down, tapping the man on the cheek.

"Hey."

The man jerked at Mike's touch.

Abby shuddered, involuntarily, but she leaned forward to hear was Mike said next.

"Don't think that you can just walk out of here without paying my boss. You owe him."

Mike gripped the man's arms and heaved him to his feet.

A smile was plastered on Mike's face, but Abby knew that it was fake.

"Sorry for disrupting everyone's evening. My friend here got a little drunk and wasn't paying me the money he owes me." Mike shook his head. "I knew I shouldn't have bet against a broke drunk."

The tension in the room broke, and there was a few chuckles.

Mike let out a laugh of his own, his blue eyes scanning the room quickly.

Abby froze as those piercing eyes landed on her.

For a moment, Mike's façade broke and a look of guilt washed over his face, before it was quickly replaced by disinterest.

He turned and went back into the room, dragging the second man with him. The door shut firmly behind them, leaving Abby staring.

Heather nudged her. "Well, clearly there was something else going on. Be thankful you dropped that guy."

Abby nodded absently. She couldn't help but feel like she was missing something. Something very important that would change everything.

* * *

**A/N: So I'm not really sure about this one...I wanted to write about Mike from another person's point of view and this is what I came up with. But I'm not the greatest at writing lots of descriptions, so I don't know how well this turned out.  
Anyway, if you guys have anything that you would like to see just let me know because I have a few more drabbles in mind, but I know that I'll run out of good ideas at some point. Plus, I'm sure you guys all have some great ideas!  
****Thanks for all the follows, reviews, favorites, etc. You guys rock! **


	3. Don't Chew with Your Mouth Open, Johnny

**[Chew with your mouth closed, Johnny]**

"But, but, but, Charllieee." Johnny whined, following the woman around the kitchen. "I'm hungry now!"

Charlie heaved a sigh of frustration and turned to face Johnny, who was giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

"Johnny, no. I told you. The food isn't quite ready and no, you're not getting an early taste of it. We're waiting for everybody to get home and then we're eating."

Johnny glared at Charlie, but that quickly faded as Charlie threatened him with a large wooden spoon. Johnny noticed that she had only taken to walking around with that weapon when he had come crashing down the stairs early that morning.

Charlie waved the spoon under his nose. "Just get out of the kitchen, Johnny, go watch the Macy parade on TV or something."

Johnny opened his mouth to say that he didn't _want _to watch the stupid parade, he wanted to eat something, dammit, but he quickly rethought that as Charlie gritted her teeth and took a step toward him, waving the spoon.

He narrowed his eyes at Charlie as turned on his heel leaving the kitchen.

For a moment, Johnny stood in the middle of the living room, not sure what he should do. Then a muffled sound came from upstairs and Johnny suddenly remembered that Mike was home too.

He dashed up the stairs, banging open Mike's door without anyone warning.

Mike jerked, his elbow shoving a large file off his desk and yelped, "Shit, Johnny! Don't you knock?!"

Johnny shook his head before flopping down on Mike's perfectly made bed.

Mike winced and pressed a hand to his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Johnny grinned up at Mike from the bed. "I dunno. What are _you _doing?"

Mike shot him a glare from his desk, which was scattered with files and papers. "Oh, I don't know, John. Nothing important apparently."

"Damn, son. What's got your panties in a bunch?"

Mike sighed, "Sorry. I just got a little caught up in my work and has you might've guessed, I'm not a big fan of interruptions."

Johnny shrugged, "No worries, brother." He fell silent, tucking his fists under his chin. Mike shot him a suspicious look, before turning back to his files.

Johnny watched Mike work for all of three seconds, before he started fidgeting on the bed. Mike glanced up at him, but apparently decided to ignore the soft noises and looked back down, making a note on one of the papers.

Johnny yawned and then rolled onto his back. He stared up at the ceiling, stretching his arms out. His stomach gave a sudden and loud growl.

"Whoa." Johnny said, clamping a hand over his rock-hard stomach. He flipped back onto his belly, looking over at Mike, "Did you hear that? I'm starving because Charlie won't let me eat anything. I told her that I'm gonna die if she doesn't feed me soon, so she threatened me with a spoon, saying, 'Johnny, one more word outta you and Imma gonna whack you with this spoon.'"

Mike slammed down his pen, glaring at Johnny, "Seriously? Can't I work in peace?"

Johnny snorted and bounced to sitting position. "Whatever, man. Technically, you don't even have to be working today."

Mike gave Johnny a blank look.

Johnny rolled his eyes, "Where you listening to me at all?"

Mike averted his eyes, "Well, I heard the first couple of words and then I just sorta tried to block you out."

Johnny snorted again, not affected by the fact that Mike had been ignoring him for the past few minutes. "Well, dude, it's Thanksgiving. Charlie's made a big dinner, but she said that I couldn't have any of it because we're still waiting on Briggs, Jakes, and Paige."

Mike was still giving him a blank look. He shook his head, "Look man you're gonna have to repeat all of that. I just saw your mouth moving and nothing that was coming out made any sense."

Johnny's eyes popped. "Are you serious!? Dude—."

Mike cut him off with a laugh, "I'm just messing with you. Johnny, sometimes you're too easy."

Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, "That's because it's always a sneak attack. We never expect uptight, GI Joe, Mike to make jokes. So when it does happen we don't even know what to do."

"Uh-huh." Mike said, still grinning widely.

Johnny shook his head, a smile playing across his face too.

"But, I actually did forget that it was Thanksgiving." Mike added. He propped his elbow on the desk, resting his chin on his hand. "I should probably call my folks…" Mike said distantly.

Johnny leaned forward, interested; Mike never talked about his family.

"Your folks?" He prompted.

Mike blinked and glanced up at Johnny. "What? Oh, yeah. It's cool. I'll call them later." Mike stood up. "Let's go see if Charlie needs any help."

Johnny shrugged at the sudden change of subject and popped to his feet, "It's your funeral. She'll probably bit your heads off for stepping into her turf."

* * *

"Mikey!" Charlie said, smiling. "Good to see you out of your cave."

Mike rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah."

Johnny kept a wary distance away from Charlie and her spoon, making sure that he was hiding behind Mike, who was clearly a favorite of Charlie's because she wasn't yelling at him for stepping into the kitchen.

Charlie moved to the stove, which held several large pots. She opened one of them, steam rising from it.

"Mmm." Charlie breathed. "Smells good."

Mike moved closer, standing behind Charlie. He peered over her shoulder. "Wow. Looks great too."

Charlie glanced up at him, "You wanna give it a taste? Tell me how good it is?"

"Sure." Mike said, happily.

"Chaaarlieee!" Johnny protested, coming forward. He forgot his vow not to get within range of Charlie's spoon and it danced under his nose as Charlie turned to glare at him.

He backed up a few steps, holding his hands up in defense. "But, Charlie, you told me that we couldn't eat anything till everyone got here!"

"No." Charlie said. "I said _you _couldn't eat anything."

"Why?!" Johnny asked, outraged. He glared at Mike, who was currently tasting the stuffing with a spoon.

"Because, if I gave you anything, you wouldn't stop eating and then we wouldn't have any left for the actual dinner."

Johnny opened his mouth to protest vehemently against that accusation, but he closed it after a quick second because Charlie _was_ right about that.

Charlie quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know I'm right."

"Yeah…" Johnny mumbled.

Mike laughed, dropping his spoon into the sink. "It's great, Charlie."

"Oh I know."

At that moment, the front door opened and the others entered the house.

"—I told you we don't need any cranberry sauce." Paige was saying to Jakes, shutting the door behind them.

"You bought cranberry sauce!?" Charlie asked, peering over the counter. "And it's canned." She mumbled something under her breath, rubbing a hand across her forehead.

"Jakes, honey. I made cranberry sauce….and it doesn't come from a can."

"I told you!" Paige exclaimed, poking at finger at Jakes's chest.

Jakes shrugged and put the can down on the counter. "Thought we might need more."

"Where's all this food I've been dreaming about?" Briggs asked making his presence known.

Charlie smiled and nodded toward the pile of plates stacked at the end of the counter. "Line up, kids, it's time for food."

* * *

"Ow! Charlie, what was that for!" Johnny yelped, holding his throbbing hand to his chest. He glared at her from his spot at the table.

She gave him a pointed look. "Johnny, its Thanksgiving. We don't eat till we've said something we're thankful for."

Jakes rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"I'll go first," Charlie said, ignoring the look from Jakes. "I'm thankful for this." She gestured around the table. "A place that we can call home."

Paige smiled and the others nodded slowly.

Charlie nodded at Jakes. "You're turn."

Jakes heaved a sigh. "I'm thankful for cranberry sauce that didn't come from a can."

Mike let out a snort of laughter, but quickly stopped when Charlie gave him a glare.

"Well, I'm thankful for this damn beautiful meal." Johnny interjected. "Can we please just eat already? Charlie, I'm hungry." He gave the mashed potatoes a look of longing. "We all know that Paige is thankful for closing her latest case, and Briggs is thankful for everyone and everything, Mr. Zen, and Mike is thankful for _me_ to bring him back to the world of the living."

Charlie shook her head, smiling widely. "Fine, John, we can eat."

For the next few minutes no one said anything, the only noise was the sound of frantic chewing and swallowing.

Johnny was in heaven, the food was glorious, but he was rudely brought back to Earth when something whacked his arm.

"Dammit, Charlie! Why you gotta keep hitting me with that spoon!?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, "Don't chew with your mouth open, Johnny. You're not five."

Johnny gave a long suffering sigh and made every effort to chew with his mouth closed...that lasted all of one minute. But who cared. It was Thanksgiving and he was gonna eat how he damn well pleased.

* * *

**A/N: HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! One of my guest reviewers suggested I do a Thanksgiving one-shot (THANK YOU FOR THE SUGGESTION!) and this is what I came up with. I hope it's okay because I wrote it pretty quickly. Hopefully, everyone is in character and everything makes sense. :D **


	4. In Which Mike Can't Handle Energy Drinks

**[In which Mike can't handle energy Drinks]**

"Hey, Mike, are you okay? You're not looking so good." Paige took a seat opposite Mike, who sat at the kitchen table. He looked up at her, a small grimace spreading across his face. One arm was wrapped protectively around his stomach, while the other rested on the table, his hand clenched into a fist.

"Yeah, I'm okay…"

Paige scoffed. "Yeah, right. What's going on with you?"

Mike swallowed and his face seemed to go several shades paler. "I've been awake for 72 hours." He finally said.

Paige's eyes widened, "Then why the hell are you awake?! Go to bed. Now."

"I…can't." Mike bit out.

Paige crossed her arms over her chest. "What's going on?" Her voice held the 'no, bullshit this time, Mikey' tone.

"Bello has been working my hard these past few days, hence being awake for three days. So this morning around three, Bello put an energy drink in my hand."

Paige blinked. She had been expecting some nasty story, but instead she got…energy drinks.

"For a while, I was good. Wide awake, ready to go."

"You mean, you were wired." Paige tried to hide her smile.

Mike nodded and then grimaced. "Yeah, I was wired. Pretty much bouncing off the walls."

"I would have liked to see that." Paige said, laughing.

"Bello _was_ amused." Mike said sadly.

"So what happened?" Paige asked.

"This happened." Mike gestured toward himself vaguely.

Paige gave him a blank look.

"I can't handle energy drinks." Mike clarified. "My stomach…rejects them or something. I'm fine at the beginning and then—BAM!" He slammed his hand down on the table, causing Paige to jump. Clearly, he was still a little wired.

"My stomach turns inside out," Mike continued. "And I feel like I'm gonna puke." He stopped, his eyes narrowing. He put a shaking hand to his clammy forehead, and swallowed.

"This is not good." Mike mumbled, "I'm not gonna make it." He turned crazed blue eyes to Paige.

"What?" She said, concerned.

Mike suddenly sprang to his feet, his chair flying out behind him. He dashed away from the table, his arm still clutched around his stomach.

Five seconds later Paige heard Mike emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

She let out a low laugh and stood up. Poor guy. She'd better go see if he was going to be okay.

Paige leaned against the bathroom's door frame. "Mike?" She asked. "You doing okay?" She leaned her head in seeing Mike kneeling in front of the toilet, both hands gripping the sides of the white porcelain.

He turned his head to look up at Paige.

"Ooh." Paige said. Mike's face was now a pasty white and sweat shone on his forehead. "Not so good?"

"No."

"Well, let me help you to your room."

"I got it." Mike said. He pushed himself to his feet and slowly trudged out of the bathroom.

Paige reached a hand out, but Mike only shrugged it away.

"I'm fine, Paige. My dignity is gone, but I'm fine." He gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned.

"Okay, Levi. Have fun with those stairs." She jerked her chin in the direction to the staircase.

Mike looked to where she had gestured and groaned. "I'm doomed."

Paige waited a beat before saying, "I'm helping you." She didn't wait for an answer. Instead she looped her arm under his and together they attacked the staircase of doom.

By the time they reached Mike's room, they were both out of breath. Paige unwound her arm from Mike, waiting for him to regain his balance.

Mike then reached for the door handle, but missed and ending up slamming his hand into the door.

He bit off a swear word and tried again. The second time was a success and Mike stumbled into the room.

"It's like you're drunk." Paige observed, following Mike into his room.

"I'm not."

"No, you're just drunk on life." Paige said, a small smile playing across her lips.

Mike swiveled his head around and gave her an annoyed look. "Uh-huh."

He flopped, face first, on to the bed.

"You're not even gonna take off your boots?" Paige asked, laughing.

A soft snore was her only reply.

"Guess not."

She stepped softly into the room, quickly unlacing Mike's boots. Paige eased them off, tossing them to the corner of the room. She then pulled a blanket from the shelf and spread it over Mike's form.

Paige crouched down by Mike's head, and carefully brushed a few loose strands of hair from his forehead; Mike didn't stir at her touch.

"Sleep tight, Levi."

* * *

**A/N: I wrote this in one of my afternoon classes last week when I had decided to have a energy drink an hour before class started. Yeah. Bad idea. Energy drinks don't agree with me. And apparently they don't agree with Mike either ;)  
Anyway. I hope you guys enjoyed it!  
Also, one of my guest reviewers asked if I could do a Briggs/Charlie one-shot. Did you want it to be a romantic kind of thing or were you thinking more of their friendship? I'm just gonna say it now, I'm not very good writing romance stuff (in fact, I'm really not a big fan writing or reading it). Let me know!  
Thanks guys! **


	5. Sing us a Song

**[Sing us a song]**

"I can't believe that I'm doing this…" Mike muttered to himself, as he shielded his eyes from the bright lights that shone on him.

"Here you go." One of the workers handed him a mic and gestured to the crackly TV screen that stood in front of him. "Have fun." The man said with something close to a smile, though it didn't look like a smile to Mike. To him it looked like the start of his doom.

"C'mon, Mikey!" Johnny shouted from the crowd. "Sing us a song, son!"

Mike shot a glare in his general direction, his middle finger itching to flip Johnny and the rest of them off. But he couldn't do that. It wasn't polite and there could be kids in here…actually no, there wouldn't be kids in some karaoke bar at 10PM.

"Levi, Levi, Levi!" Paige started to chant. "Stop standing there and sing for us already!"

Mike's eye twitched.

* * *

_The Morning before _

Mike scrubbed the shampoo into his thick hair, feeling uncommonly happy about the day. Quietly at first, but then louder as the tune took life, Mike began to sing,

"_When I see you everyday_

_I say, "Mm mm hello little girl"_

_When you're passing on your way_

_I say, "Mm mm hello little girl"_

_When I see you passing by_

_I cry, "Mm mm hello little girl"_

_When I try to catch your eye_

_I cry, "Mm mm hello little girl."_

Mike paused as he stood under the spray of the water to wash out the soap, but then resumed,

"_I send you flowers but you don't care_

_You never seem to see me standing there_

_I often wonder what you're thinking of_

_I hope it's me and love love love—," _

He broke off abruptly as the bathroom door banged open.

"Hey, Mike, you in here?"

"Damnnit, Johnny," Mike yelled, "I'm trying to take a shower in peace. Leave me alone."

"Naw, man, I thought I heard a song or something. Do you have the radio on or something…?" Johnny trailed off as he realized just where the song had been coming from.

Mike winced. Screwed. He was screwed.

"Duuude," Johnny said, coming to stand next to the shower. "That was you, wasn't it?"

Mike gritted his teeth, "Yeah. Give me my towel and go away."

The towel flipped over the top of the shower, hitting Mike in the face.

"Ow, Johnny!"

Johnny wasn't listening to him. When Mike stepped out he was standing next to the shower with a look on his face that Mike had come to know well.

"John, no." Mike pointed a finger threatening at Johnny. "You are going to keep this between us, understand?"

Johnny shot him a grin, "Aww, Mikey boy doesn't want anyone to know that you sing?"

"No, it's just…no." Mike sputtered, "I don't want—no."

Johnny was still grinning, but he nodded, "Fine." He turned on his heel and started to leave the bathroom.

Mike was suddenly worried. That had been too easy. Something was up.

"Johnny, I mean it. Don't tell anyone!"

Johnny waved a hand over his head, but didn't reply to Mike's pleas.

* * *

_7PM_

Everyone stood around the counter in the kitchen, listening to Paige as she talked animatedly.

"So, we're actually all here tonight for once." She gave a pointed look at Jakes, who stared stoically back. "And Johnny—," Johnny coughed loudly, shaking his head violently. "—I mean, _I_ was thinking that we should go out. Get a few drinks relax."

Mike cast a suspicious look over at Johnny, but so far he had been as good as his word and no one had had mentioned anything about Mike's singing in the shower.

"That's a great idea." Charlie said, coming around the counter to stand next to Paige. "We need a little time to just kick back."

"What if we don't want to go?" Briggs asked, teasingly.

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him, and said, "You don't have a choice in the matter. We're all going. All. Of. Us."

"Fine, fine." Jakes said, "We're going." He started herding everyone out the door, which should have alerted Mike that something was up because since when did Jakes ever do something like? But instead, he allowed himself to be bundled out into the cool night air with the others.

* * *

_9:45 PM Fifteen minutes before Mike's doom_

Mike was well into his four glass of beer (the others kept putting it in front of him), and he was feeling fuzzy and warm.

"So, Mikey," Briggs said, putting his elbows on the table, a sly grin on his face.

Mike glanced in his direction.

"I've heard a little rumor going around."

Mike whipped his head around to glare at Johnny. He knew where this was going.

Briggs continued, "That you have one fine singing voice."

"I don't." Mike said quickly. Clearly no one believed. Mike looked around at the eager faces around him, and realized that he had been tricked. Everyone looked at him with expectant smiles.

"Are you sure about that, Mikey," Johnny said, winking.

Mike's eyes widened. "This was a trap."

Jakes let out a loud "guffaw" of laughter. "Yes, I guess you could look at it that way."

"Aw, c'mon, Mike, we just want to hear you sing." Paige said, puckering her lips a little.

Mike knew that Paige's face was for show, but he forgot to tell his mouth that, "All you guys needed to do was ask, not trick me into going to—," Mike stopped abruptly and looked around the bar, "A FREAKING KARAOKE BAR." He practically shouted the last part at them.

They weren't fazed by the volume of his voice.

"He's got some good singing pipes on him, doesn't he?" Charlie observed conversationally to Jakes, who nodded in return.

"You can't be serious." Mike said, his eyes going to each of his roommates. "Right?" He was pleading now.

"We're serious, Mike." Johnny said his voice grave. "Dead serious."

Mike shot daggers at Johnny, suddenly remembering who had told everyone about his singing. "You."

Johnny blinked, and looked for help from the others; Mike looked like he wanted to fling himself across the table and strangle him.

"Me?" Johnny tried, as the others gave him unhelpful shrugs.

Mike actually attempted to reach across the table to go for Johnny, but luckily for Johnny, Mike was a little drunk and didn't make it.

Mike was spread across the table, spilled beer seeping into his clothes. The others had jerked away from the flying beer, surprised looks on their faces.

"Shit, Mike, you're really pissed about this."

"Damn straight." Mike growled, slowly getting up. He sat back into his chair, feeling more than a little foolish, but not willing to forgive Johnny or the others yet.

"You're a mean drunk, Mike." Johnny said his humor back in full force.

"You're lucky I can't punch straight right now." Mike grumbled, his anger beginning to drain away. It wasn't really anger, anyway; he just didn't liked being tricked.

"Um, Mike." Charlie said, nodding her head toward one of the bar tenders that was marching over to their table with a determined look on his face.

"Shit." Mike groaned.

"I'll do the talking." Paige assured him, pressing her hand on his semi-wet shoulder.

"Thanks." Mike said gratefully.

"Hey," Paige said, giving the man a bright smile when he came to a stop at their table. "I'm really sorry about my friend. He got upset at my other idiot friend here and decided it would be a good idea to jump across the table."

The man softened as he looked at Paige and her disarming smile. "Well, I guess that's fine. I just don't want any fights in here."

"We don't either." Charlie interjected, nodding her head.

"I thought we'd make this little scene up to you," Paige continued, causing Mike's stomach to clench.

"No, Paige, stop, no!"

Everyone ignored him, their focus on Paige and the bartender.

"I know that tonight is your big karaoke night and no one's sung yet."

The man shrugged, "Everyone's a little shy at first. It usually takes one or two others to go first before anyone else wants to go."

"Well, I have—."

"Paige, nooo."

"—a volunteer to go first."

Mike dropped his head into his hands, wincing as his hair soaked in the beer that still clung to his hands.

"Mike here has a great voice and would love to sing something."

The man gave Mike a slap on the shoulder. "Wonderful! Let's get this thing going now!"

"Let's not." Mike tried, but to no avail.

Helped along by the bartender, Mike found himself shoved onto the small stage with a microphone in his hand.

* * *

_Present _

"Ready?"

"Yes." Mike muttered.

"Then here we go." The man started the song, giving Mike a thumbs up.

Mike squinted into the glare, took a deep breath and started to sing.

"_Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now_

_Our song on the radio but it don't sound the same"_

As soon as the first few lyrics came from his mouth, Mike desperately wished that he had picked a different song. An oldie, anything else but this one.

"_It all just sounds like oooooh…_

_Mmm, too young, too dumb to realize_

_That I should've bought you flowers_

_And held your hand"_

Mike's tense muscles slowly relaxed when no one 'booed' him off stage. Yet.

"_My pride, my ego, my needs, and my selfish ways_

_Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life"_

Mike slowly started to actually enjoy himself. He really did enjoyed singing this song, which is why he had chosen it.

Mike couldn't see anyone's faces because of the glaring light, but the room was dead silent, which could be a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

The song gradually came to a close and Mike lowered his voice to sing the final lyrics,

"_Do all the things I should have done_

_When I was your man_

_Do all the things I should have done_

_When I was your man"_

If the room had been quiet before, it was silent as the grave now. Mike winced, and crossed the stage. He handed the mic to the open-mouthed bar tender and hopped down, hoping to get out of there before someone (probably Johnny) found tomatoes or something to throw at him.

It was then that the whole bar decided to break into applause.

Johnny was suddenly at his elbow, "I knew it! _I knew it!_"

The others crowded around him too, patting him on his shoulders.

"Johnny wasn't lying," Briggs said, "You can sing." He sounded impressed.

"Thanks…I guess." Mike said, feeling a little awkward. He rubbed hand against the back of his neck.

"Can we please just leave now?" He felt the other customers' eyes on him.

"Um, no." Johnny said, swinging Mike around to face the stage again. "You're singing for us again. Something upbeat this time, though."

"I'm not your singing monkey, Johnny." Mike said, but allowed himself to be forced back onto the stage.

The mic was shoved back into his hand and he stood alone on the stage again.

"Hey," Mike gave a little wave, "So…what does everyone want to hear?"

A few people shouted some suggestions out.

"Right." Mike said, nodding. "How about we make this a duo act?"

He turned to face Johnny, who still stood at the foot of the stage. "My good friend, Johnny wants to sing us all a song too."

Johnny's face went pale and shook his head. "Mike, no!"

"Paybacks a bitch, John boy." Mike sang with a wicked smile.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys, soooo I'm at school right now waiting to take my next exam. Basically I was bored and I wrote this (in like an hour, so it could be bad).  
One of my lovely reviewers suggested I do something like this and I was already thinking about doing it. I hope it turned out well and amuses everyone. Because the point of the story is to get your mind off finals/school for a little bit. Enjoy!  
Also, the songs that I used: "Hello, Little Girl" by the Beatles and "When I was your man" by Bruno Mars (I used that one for obvious reasons XD )**


	6. We have our Friends We'll be Alright

**[We have our friends. We'll be alright]**

"Man, you are so wasted right now." Mike said laughingly, catching Johnny's arm as they stumbled out of the bar's door.

They were the last ones out and by the way they were both weaving down the road, Johnny wasn't the only one who was tipsy.

"Why did we think it was a good idea to do all those shots again?" Mike asked, trying his best not to slur his sentence.

"It was a matter of honor, Mikey." Johnny responded, his arm draped over Mike's shoulder. "Those dudes back at the bar bet we couldn't out-drink them…but we showed them, eh?" Johnny gave Mike a lopsided grin.

Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head. He continued to pull Johnny down the empty road, trying to keep his feet straight; it wouldn't be a good time if he tripped.

The streetlights cast a dim glow on the road, though it wasn't bright enough to shine on the alleys that were lined along the road.

"Hey, Mike." Johnny suddenly said after a few moments of silence.

"Huh?"

"How come you never talk about your family? Like ever?"

Mike slowed his steps, glancing over at his drunken roommate. "Why do you wanna know?"

Johnny shrugged and looked back at Mike through half-lidded eyes. "I'm an FBI agent. It's my job to ask."

"Well…" Mike said slowly. "There's nothing to really talk about. I'm here with you guys. This is my life now."

Johnny frowned and opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could Mike suddenly froze, jerking them both to a stop in the middle of the street.

"What?" Johnny asked, loudly.

"Shh." Mike hissed. "I thought I saw something ahead."

Johnny pulled his arm away from Mike and squinted down the road. "I don't see anything."

"That's because you're drunk." Mike said, keeping his eyes staring straight ahead.

"So are you." Johnny protested.

"Clearly I can hold my liquor better than you." Mike responded.

Johnny observed the other agent and had to concede that Mike was standing a lot steadier on his own.

Mike took a few steps forward and called out, "Anyone there?"

Johnny laughed. "If someone's there they aren't gonna answer you, dummy."

"Shut up."

"Dude, let's just go home. There's nothing there."

Mike turned toward Johnny, giving him a glare when a noise sounded behind them causing Mike to whirl back around.

Three large men stood ahead of them, just outside of the light. They leered at the two agents. The smallest one took a step forward, curling his finger at Mike. "Wallets, phones. Now."

"Excuse me?" Johnny asked with a laugh. "You want what now?"

The man who had spoken frowned. "You heard me. Wallets, phones."

"Yeah." One of the others spoke up, sneering. "Hurry up."

Mike exchanged a quizzical look with Johnny. "John, I think these guys are trying to mug us."

Johnny narrowed his eyes, looking back at the thugs. "I think you're right."

The thug's leader shifted uncertainly; this is not how most muggings went. He would demand the money or whatever and the victims would hand it over. Simple. Easy. Efficient.

The victims were _not_ supposed to be chatting to each other in such a calm manner.

"Hey, pissheads." The thug called, "Give me your shit. Now!" He dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his folding knife. He whipped it out and held out in front of him in a menacing manner.

"Whoa." Johnny said, holding his hands up. "He's got a knife, Mikey. A _knife!"_

"Yeah, I do got a knife." The man said, feeling his confidence begin to rise again.

Mike winced. "You do _have _a knife." He corrected.

"Eh?" The man asked, confused.

"Speak correctly or don't speak at all." Johnny supplied helpfully.

Mike laughed, giving a nod as he pointed at his friend.

The thug glared at the two drunks, and gave a yell. He ran toward them, his knife waving. His comrades followed closely on his heels.

Mike tensed, but didn't move from where he was standing. He saw Johnny do the same from the corner of his eye.

The man with the knife decided to go for Mike, who apparently looked less threatening of the two.

He jabbed at Mike's stomach with the knife, but Mike spun to the side grabbing a hold of the man's arm. He twisted it brutally. The man yowled, letting go of his weapon. It hit the ground with a clatter.

Mike hadn't let go of the man's arm. He jerked the arm around, curling it behind the man's back.

"Move and I break your arm." Mike said, leaning down.

The man stilled, his back arched to ease some of the tension. "Son of a bitch! Let go!"

"Johnny? How're you doing?" Mike looked up, catching sight of his somewhat more sober friend.

"Good." Johnny said, giving Mike a wave. The remaining two thugs were lying in crumbled heaps at his feet. "These morons don't know a thing about hand-to-hand combat."

Mike laughed as he shoved the remaining man forward toward Johnny. "Do me a solid, Johnny, and knock this guy out for me."

The man jerked in Mike's grip, protesting.

Johnny ignored him and popped him in the face with his fist. The man went limp in Mike's grip, and Mike let the thug fall next to his buddies.

Johnny and Mike stared down at the men for a second. "What should we do with them?" Johnny finally asked.

"Call the cops?" Mike said, arching an eyebrow at his friend.

They stared at each other for a moment, before they both snorted and turned away from the mess they left.

Johnny draped his arm on Mike's shoulders, his feet stumbling on the loose gravel.

"You know," Johnny started thoughtfully.

Mike lolled his head to the side, so he could see Johnny's face.

"I figure as long as we have our friends, we'll be alright."

"Wow." Mike said, grinning. "I never took you for the emotional type, Johnny."

Johnny shoved at Mike with his shoulder, causing them to veer to the side of abandoned road.

"Well, I can't really take credit for that. I heard it in some song and thought it sounded good."

* * *

**A/N: So, it's been a little while since I last updated this story. Sorry about that. I've been busy with family stuff (because I'm on break) and I've had a bit of a writer's block.  
I know that Mike and Johnny are really out of character here (probably because I haven't written this in a while), but I figure we can pretend that they're that way because they're drunk.  
On a side note, the title for this came from a song I was listening to called, "We'll be Alright" by Travie McCoy.  
Lastly, for my guest reviewer who wanted a Briggs and Charlie romantic one-shot...I tried. I really tried. It just wasn't working out. I'm sorry!**


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